


The Whiskey Burns and the Stars are Bright

by markiboss (purplelly)



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood, M/M, Nightmares, immortal au, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:04:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelly/pseuds/markiboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark meets a bartender, Jack sees a familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One with the Speakeasy

**Author's Note:**

> I have an idea where to take this, but we'll see where it goes! :P

_1930_

_Basement of Muyskerm &Co_

_McLoughlin Speakeasy_

\--

Sean wiped down the counter after one of his patrons had a spill. Most of his daily - or rather, nightly - customers were kind fellows. Sean knew that for certain. The worst they’d do is the occasional spill - nobody wanted to get thrown out of the most popular speakeasy this side of the state.

The bar used to be bustling. Gentlemen taking cheers together, groups of flappers hanging by the bar. The stage was always lit and the canary sung while some fellow played the piano to tune. Some patrons swayed to the music while others grew dizzy with the dame. Those nights always brought in loads of cash by the time the sun rose over the horizon. 

Now, it’s always quiet. Their canary, a lovely lady by the name of Brooke still sings every now and then, but there’s not much of an audience to listen. Sean hasn’t let her go because he knows she needs the cash. Everyone needs the cash. The bar had gotten slower since the stock market crash, but Sean’s made enough in the last decade to keep himself, and his bar, afloat. 

The gentlemen who spilled the rum leaned on the counter with his head in his hands. Sean could tell he shouldn’t be here, wasting his time and money, but perhaps the man has nowhere to go. 

A bell rings and Sean looked up to the door. A man with impressive stature and handsome black locks wandered in the bar. He looked exhausted. 

“Need a drink, stranger?” Sean called. 

The man met his eye and Sean was taken by the stars in them. The man smiled, and it was warm. 

“A drink would be swell,” The man said, and his voice croaked from his sorry state. 

“McLoughlin mule, comin’ up,” Sean said, turning to the shelves behind him. “What’s your name, stranger?” 

The man sat at the bar and some deeper part of Sean told him this man belonged there.

“The name’s Marcus.”

\----

_Present Day_

\--

The bright neon green sign above the bar was printed in a sloppy cursive. Mark squinted up at it as they walked towards the door, guarded by a bouncer.

“McLoughlin Speakeasy?” Mark read the sign.

“Yeah, it’s pretty popular around here,” Wade said from beside him. “Can’t believe we finally dragged you out here.”

“I know why I haven’t been here,” Mark chimed in.

“ _Yes_ , we know,” Bob interrupted. “You drink, you die.”

“Which is why you’re our designated driver,” Wade added.

“The worst part about it,” Mark rolled his eyes.

The guard, a big burly man with a beard, stood up from his stool and stopped them. They flashed him their IDs and the man grunted once before allowing them access.

The bar was bustling. Mark could see that it really was a popula place. He tables and booths were nearly full. The bar had very few empty barstools.

Mark noticed a stage on one side of the room, but the spotlights above it were off. He took one look at the screens on the wall behind the stage and gasped.

“Do they have karaoke here?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, but I think it’s only on weekends,” Wade said.

“Why did we come here on a Thursday, then?” Mark asked, offended.

“‘Cause it’s the first day of Spring Break?” Bob suggested. “And we’re taking flights home tomorrow?”

“It’s not fair for me!” Mark whined. They slid into an empty booth, one close to the door. “We could have at least come when they had karaoke, so I can have fun while you two get shit-faced.”

“Please, you’ll have fun watching us get shit-faced,” Bob said.

“And recording it for blackmail,” Mark added.

“Ugh, now I wish we asked someone else,” Bob said.

“You should have!” Mark agreed.

“Are we going to keep bickering or order something?” Wade asked.

“So eager to get drunk, huh?” Makr asked.

“I’ll go get them,” Bob volunteered, standing up.

“No, no, I should,” Mark stopped him. “I’m the one babysitting you, I should regulate your drinks.” H gave them a mischievous wink before leaving.

As he walked towards the ba, he was pretty sure he heard Bob say, “He’s gonna poison us, isn’t he?”

Mark sat at one of the barstools. He could see two bartenders attending the patrons surrounding the oak counter. One with blonde hair down at the far end, and one with bright green hair at Mark’s end. The green-haired bartender had his back to Mark.

Tapping his fingers on the smooth wooden bar, Mark looked around at the other patrons. There was active noise all around. He caught snippets of conversations in between the customers, and the low hum of music played in the background. Mark tried to discern what song was playing while he waited being served.

A sudden crash made Mark jumped. He looked up with wide eyes, and was further startled to find the green haired bartender staring directly at him.

There was a brief dip in the noise as people turned their heads to the sound, but it picked back up almost instantly. The bartender continued to stare at Mark, his face pale - or maybe that was his normal complexion. Mark squirmed in his seat under the scrutiny.

“Uh, are you...okay?” Mark asked.

The other bartender, the blonde one, hurried over with a mop.

“Jack, c’mon, you dropped our best wine, you should at least clean it up,” The bartender followed Jack’s gaze. He scoffed. “You can gawk at hot guys later, once you clean this mess.”

Jack broke his stare to glare at the other bartender, his cheeks flaming with color. He grabbed the mop from him and started soaking up the spilled wine, eyes downcast.

Mark watched, with an odd mixture of amusement and concern.

The blonde bartender turned to him. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m Felix. What can I get you?”

“Uh, what do you have?” Mark asked.

Felix looked over the shelves of bottles behind him. “Well, we have the usual...You look new, so how about our brand ‘McLoughlin Mule’?” He picked up a bottle off the shelf and held it up.

“Uh…’mule’? Like, donkey?” Mark asked.

Felix laughed. “No, no, it’s...Jack, what was it?”

Jack, who finished mopping and had bent down t pick up the glass, popped his head up. He carefully avoided Mark’s eyes. “It was a term for whiskey,” Jack explained. “Like, in the 30s. Or something.” He disappeared below the counter.

Felix smiled in an amused way, one enjoying the torture of a close friend. He turned back to Mark. “There you have it. You want a glass?”

“Eh, sure,” Mark said. “Make it two, trough. And, do you have soda?”

“Yeah, what’ll you have?” Felix asked.

“Pepsi? Just a separate glass,” Mark said. “I’m the DD tonight.”

“Oh, I know how that feels,” Felix said, and turned to prepare the drinks. “This’ll only be a couple minutes.”

Jack appeared again from the ground, holding a dust pan with shards of glass of on it. He walked  a couple steps and dumped somewhere below the counter, into a trashcan, presumably. He set the dust pan down and rocked on his feet, his eyes darting to Mark.

Mark pretended to busy himself with folding and re-folding a napkin. He could feel the bartender’s eyes on him.

Finally, Jack approached him.

“Hey, uh, sorry about,” He glanced to the floor. “That.” He coughed. “You just, um, remind of someone I knew.”

“Oh,” Mark straightened. “That’s okay. I get it.”

Jack looked relieved. “I’m Jack.”

“Mark,” Mark nodded a greeting.

“So, who are you driving tonight?” Jack asked.

Mark pointed a thumb at their booth. “Those guys. I got stuck babysitting.” He rolled his eyes, though he was more amused than annoyed.

He expected Jack to laugh, or to smile, or something to acknowledge the joke, but his eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow.

“ _Them?_ ” Jack asked, like he didn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah?” Mark said, more as a question.

“I mean,” Jack scratched the back of his neck. “They’re regulars, but I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah, I’m not big on bars,” Mark shrugged. “I wouldn’t have come with they hadn’t asked me to drive them. But shit, I didn’t know there was karaoke here! I’ll have to come back sometime.”

“You sing?” Jack asked.

“I was in theatre in high school,” Mark shrugged. “We did some musicals. That counts, right?”

“What do you do now?” Jack asked, and he leaned his hands on the counter.

“I’m in college,” Mark said. “Earth science major. Hope to be a prof one day.” He glanced at Jack’s name tag. “So, you work here, but do you study?”

Jack shrugged. “No, I make enough from his place.”

Felix interrupted them by placing a tray with three drinks in front of Mark.

“Should I start a tab?” Felix asked.

“You should,” Mark agreed, and Felix nodded. He walked to a cash register and pressed a few buttons.

“Come back to the bar if you need someone not-drunk to talk to,” Jack suggested.

Mark chuckled. “I”ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” He took the tray and headed back to their booth.

“Ooh, what did you get?” Wade asked.

“Uh, ‘mule’ or something,” Mark said, setting the tray on the table and sliding in the booth.

“McLoughlin Mule?” Bob asked, taking a glass. “You know the owner of his bar also owns the company who makes this?”

“Well, that makes sense,” Mark said. He grabbed his Pepsi off the tray. “Who’s the owner?”

“You were talking to him,” Bob snickered.

“Huh?” Mark glanced at the bar. “The bartender? Which one?”

“Jack,” Bob clarified. “Jack _McLoughlin_.”

“ _He’s_ the owner?” Mark asked disbelievingly. “He looks so _young_.”

“My guess is he inherited it,” Bob shrugged. “This whole place runs in his family.”

Mark hummed thoughtfully before taking a sip from his Pepsi.

They chatted about trivial things in between sips. They talked about the semester, their families they were visiting the next day, things they planned for the rest of the school year, anything. It was nice down time after the stress of exams.

In the middle of taking a sip, Wade nudged Mark.

“I think Jack is making eyes at you,” Wade said, and Mark nearly spit out his Pepsi.

“W-What?” Mark coughed.

“Jack’s been glancing at you,” Wade repeated.

Mark, as discreetly as he could, glanced at the bartender. Jack was wiping down the counter facing them, but seemed focused in his work.

No, wait. Jack glanced up towards their table, but froze when he met Mark’s gaze. He turned his head away and wiped the counter with much more force than before.  
“You think the bartender, and not only the bartender, but the owner of a bar and beer company, is into me?” Mark asked.

“You’re right, it does seem far-fetched,” Bob teased. “But you know, miracles _do_ happen.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mark kicked him under the table. “He’s probably just looking a me because I remind him of someone. He told me so himself.”

“Yeah, sure,” Wade said. “If you believe that excuse.”

“You think he’d make that up to flirt with me?” Mark asked, skepticism clear in his tone.

“Only one way to find out,” Bob said, and placed his empty glass on the tray. Wade knocked back what he had left, coughed, and set his glass beside Bob’s.

“Go get drinks,” Bob said.

Mark rolled his eyes, but slid out of the booth with the tray. A thrum of nervousness rose up in him. He was excited about this prospect. He hadn’t dated anyone in years, not since high school, and graduation had been almost five years ago. It hadn’t really crossed his mind since then.

He set the tray down on the counter and waited for one of the bartenders to be free. Felix spotted him first, but instead of serving him, Felix nudged Jack and nodded to where he sat. Jack shoved him before approaching Mark.

“More drinks?” Jack said, taking the tray.

“Ah, yes, please,” Mark said, and he might have followed with some flirty line, but Jack was walking away.

Mark tapped his fingers on the bar. He glanced behind him back to the booth, and was displeased to find Wade and Bob watching. As he glanced at them, Bob shot him a thumbs up.

Jack reappeared a moment later, setting the tray down on the counter with three re-filled drinks.

“You have a tab, right?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Mark nodded. “Hey, uh, I like your...necklace.”

Jack paused, surprised. His hand reached up to the fold chain around his neck.

“Is it real gold?” Mark asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. I bought it to be a gift for someone, but…” He shrugged, but Mark thought he looked a bit sad.

“It looks like nice on you,” Mark said, leaning forward on his hands.

Jack’s cheeks pinked and he seemed at a loss of what to say. Mark squashed down the rising panic in his throat, tried to remain cool and grabbed the tray to head back to the booth.

Wade and Bob had their eyebrows raised as Mark slid into the booth. He set the tray down and put his head in his hands.

“Went well?” Bob asked.

“Fantastic,” Mark replied dryly. “I need advice. How the hell do you flirt?”

For their second round of drinks, Bob and Wade gifted their dear friend Mark with their flirting knowledge. But, in reality, it wasn’t all that helpful, considering the two had two cups of whiskey in them and their advice extended to cheesy pick up lines (at least on Wade’s end).

Turns out, Mark didn’t really get a chance to try out what he learned. Felix was the one to refill their next round, and after that Mark went into babysitter mode, completely forgetting about Jack in his atempts to keep Bob and Wade out of trouble.

The only time the attractive bartender reappeared into Mark’s thoughts was around the time began getting ready to leave. He rounded Bob and Wade up, made sure they had all their belongings, and he was heading to the counter to pay for their tab.

Jack spotted him and rushed over.

“‘Nother round?” He asked.

“No, we’re headed out,” Mark said. “I’m paying for the tab.”

Jack seemed to deflate a little, but he nodded and headed to the register. He told Mark what he owed, and Mark cringed internally before reluctantly pulling out his wallet. As he handed Jack his card, he made a note to complain to Wade and Bob about the amount until they offered to repay him. Probably with coffee, or gas, or something.

Before Mark could leave, Jack stopped him.

“Hey, uh, one more thing,” Jack said, and stooped low to reach under the counter. He reppeared holding a bottle of red wine. “A, uh, gift,” Jack said, setting it on the counter. “You know, for first-time customers.” He scratched the back of his neck.

Mark would literally die if he drank that, but he took the bottle anyway. It was a kind gift, but he’d probably give it to someone else.

“Thanks,” Mark said. “Do you treat all your customers like this?”

“Only the cute ones,” Jack responded with a wink.

Mark stammered, all the flirting advice he’d been given flying out the window. But before he could say anything, Jack reached into his pocket and handed him a slip of paper.

“You’re driving two drunk guys home, so text me if you need help,” Jack said as Mark took the paper. “Or, you know, for anything else.”

Mark smiled as he tucked the paper in his jacket pocket. Gripping the neck bottle of wine by the neck, he stood up from the bar. “Thanks, for everything. I hope to stop by again.”

Jack waved him off, and Mark lead his two friends to the car parked outside.


	2. The One with the Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmm have another, sorry its so short! :P  
> WARNINGS for lots of mentions of blood!!!

He shambled into his apartment at 2am and immediately downed a bottle of whiskey.

The bar below Jack’s apartment had been scrubbed and polished for the past two hours, after closing at midnight. He dismissed Felix earlier, who left without a second thought - cleaning up had always been something he dreaded doing every day. The cook had left just as fast, a nice guy by the name of Nate. So that had left Jack to do the dirty work.

He didn’t mind. He found cleaning to be soothing. Something to take his mind off this hectic day. No, this  _ awful, exciting  _ day.

When Mark had walked up to his bar, it felt like deja vu. He was suddenly pulled back in time.

But now he realized the subtle differences. The awake, alert eyes; the friendlier, chipper attitude; and, of course, the bright red hair that dangled on one side of his face. ‘Mark’ was different, just like the others.

The thought caused him to pound a fist on the cheap dining table. It rattled under the motion, and the salt and pepper shakers left there from that morning toppled over. 

Wasn’t it bad luck to spill salt? Jack recalled hearing something like throwing a pinch of salt over your left shoulder to cancel it out. Or was it his right?

He took a drink from the bottle labeled ‘McLoughlin Mule’ instead. 

Jack thought about the small locked chest hidden under layer of clothes in the top shelf of his closet. He wondered if now was a good time to open it. He struggled to remember the last time he opened the box.

With a sigh as he drank from the bottle, he decided it was not a good time. What’s a good time, is feeling the familiar burn of whiskey down his throat. It settles happily in his stomach and makes his thoughts fuzzy. Easier to forget the ‘thing’.

The only bad part is the amount it takes for Jack to get himself drunk. He’s grown a tolerance to it over the years, and it can take a couple bottles to get himself tipsy. Probably because alcohol’s gotten a lot more watered down in the years...

And probably why bottles liter his apartment on every available surface, mostly his name brand.

The bottle in his hand is nearly empty now, and Jack wondered how long he’s been sitting here, drinking and stewing in his own thoughts. He finished off the bottle and shoved it onto the table. It tipped over, now accompanying the salt and pepper shakers. He stood from the table and swayed, the motion causing his head to spin. His hands gripped the edge of the table and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the room to stop spinning.

When he felt steadier, Jack stepped, stumbled, into his bedroom. The covers on the bed were a tangled mess, and the room had a peculiar funk to it. Jack spent a glance at the closet, and hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he continued to flop onto his bed. He pulled a part of the comforter on top of him and tried to sleep.

\---

_ The bar was bustling, as it usually is on a weekend. The radio was off, in favor of Brooke singing karaoke on stage. Over the hum of conversation, Jack couldn’t make out what song was playing, but he could feel the bass in his chest. It pounded in a clear rhythm, and his fingers tapped on the wooden bar in time to it. He should pick up drums again. There were sticks somewhere in his bottom drawer, if he recalled correctly. _

_ “Hey Sean, long time no see.” The familiar face sidled up to the bar, his black locks messy and curly in just the right way.  _

_ “Marcus,” Jack greeted, and for some reason it felt like it’d been a lifetime since they’ve talked. “How have you been?”  _

_ “Swell, darling,” Marcus said, and his deep voice ran through Jack’s chest like the bass of the music. “How’s the bar?” _

_ “Gotten a lot more regulars since you’ve been here,” Jack said. “Will and Rob have stopped in. Have I told you about them?”  _

_ “I know all about them, darling,” Marcus nodded. “You owe them a lot.”  _

_ “I do,” Jack agreed. “They’ve helped me.” He paused. “I missed you.” _

_ Marcus reached across the table to grasp Jack’s hand. A small smile crossed his face. “I’ve missed you too, darling. It’s been such a long time.” His thumbs ran across Jack’s knuckles. He lifted up Jack’s hand and kissed his fingers. “We should get together. Talk. You know.” He smiled, a small secret-smile, and Jack returned it as he realized the meaning.  _

_ The bass of the music was suddenly absent, and Jack looked up to watch Brooke step off the stage. The audience below, an amalgamate form of dark shapes, applauded and cheered. Jack thought he saw Will and Rob somewhere in the crowd.  _

_ Then the hand clutching his tightened. Jack turned his attention back to Marcus, and panic rose in him at seeing a grimace of pain on the other’s face.  _

_ “Marcus? What’s wrong?” Jack asked, his other hand coming up to brush his cheek.  _

_ Marcus didn’t respond. Instead he coughed, and droplets of blood splattered on the counter. A horrible gurgle rose up out of Marcus’ mouth as streams of red poured from the corners of his lips. Jack’s throat closed, and he couldn’t utter a sound. He could only watch with silent horror. _

_ The hand entwined with his tightened painfully, and Marcus coughed some more, blood dripping down his chin. Jack began to see dark spots form on Marcus’ t-shirt. And still, Marcus smiled through it all. The awful, untrustworthy, ‘don’t-worry’ smile. Jack tugged at the hand locked around his, but he couldn’t break free, couldn’t pull himself away from this horror.  _

_ Then Marcus changed. There were glasses on his face where there weren’t before, because Jack had always been the one with bad eyesight between them. Marcus’ hair colored a bright red, matching the blood leaking from his mouth, and now his nose, his eyes. Bright red streaks of blood trailed down his cheeks as Jack realized this wasn’t Marcus at all, this was Mark. _

_ And now he remembered. He remembered why he hadn’t seen Marcus recently. He remembered Mark. _

_ Mark rose up from the bar stool and his smile was no longer Marcus’ sympathetic smile, it was a grin, an evil grin, his teeth unnaturally sharp and stained red. The hand holding tight onto Jack’s twisted, pulling at Jack’s arm painfully, bending it at an awkward position. Mark’s eyes had gone inhumanly dark. _

_ “You’re wasting your abilities,” Mark spoke, and it was low and dangerous. “Take responsibility for yourself, you coward.” _

_ Jack’s voice was gone, dead and decayed inside his throat. He could no more than stare, his breaths coming quick and ragged, a ball of ice in his stomach. Mark twisted his arm, in a way it shouldn’t be twisted, and Jack finally felt his voice, and just as he heard the unmistakable crack in his arm, he screamed-- _

\---

\--and sat up in bed. 

Jack panted heavily, cradling his arm across his chest. He swore he could still feel the break, but even as he sat there, he felt the pain fading. It was all in his head. 

His bedroom was dark. He could feel the sweat-soaked sheets covering the tips of his feet; he must have kicked them back. It seemed the shapes in the dark moved, smiled, conspired against him. If Jack listened closely, he might hear them whisper.

Jack reached over to his bedside and clicked the lamp on. The darkness dispelled, sent away for now, but will return later.

Jack swallowed, and his throat was dry. He kicked back the remaining covers and stood up, making his way to the kitchen, turning on the lights as he went. He nearly tripped on the piles of clothes around the room, but he made it to the living area of the apartment. 

He trudged to the kitchen. Piles of dishes filled the sink. Ignoring the chore he’s been putting off, he took a cup from the cupboard, one of the few clean ones he had left, and filled it in the tap.

The water was room-temperature, but it helped his throat. He set the glass on the counter and looked around the apartment. 

Bottles still littered the entire floor. He wondered if the room smelled like the alcohol that used to be in them, but then wondered when he stopped noticing it. The trash in the corner of the kitchen overflowed, and he  _ could  _ smell that. It was awful, full of half-eaten meals. He’ll take it out tomorrow. 

Jack thought about going back to bed, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore tonight. Instead, he reached into one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a lighter. 

Making his way to the living room, he spotted the pack of cigarettes he left on the coffee table. He scooped up the package and headed for the back door, leading onto a small balcony with a cheap plastic chair sitting out on it. 

Pulling out one of the cigarettes, he lit one up and sat in the chair. A long drag, and he felt the anxiety in his chest subside slightly. The ice-ball in his stomach remained, however. It would stay for a long time.

He leaned back and looked out at the stars, the smoke drawn from his mouth entwining between the tiny crystals on a navy blue background.


	3. The One with the Karaoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mm i have an idea where to take this but have some fluffy chapters until it gets interesting :P

“Where did you get this?”

Mark peered over the Astrology book he held and saw Wade holding up a wine bottle. The liquid inside sloshed.

Mark smiled without realizing it. “Oh, that bartender gave it to me, like, a month ago? You know, the night of Spring Break.”

“Jack? Why would he do that?” Wade asked, tipping the bottle to look at the label.

Mark’s response was to grin with his tongue between his teeth. Wade looked at him and scoffed.

“Are you two dating now or what?” Wade asked. 

Mark laughed, but couldn’t help his face from heating up. “Or what. I haven’t been back since Spring Break.” 

“Why not?!” Wade asked, like he was offended.

Mark shrugged, and looked back to his book.

This group study session in Mark’s apartment had started with him, Bob, and Wade doing just that: studying. Then after an hour and a half, they had gotten restless, and Bob stepped outside to order pizza and Wade wandered around Mark’s apartment. Which is when he found the bottle of wine.

“I don’t know, Wade,” Mark began, and Wade braced himself for the sarcasm. “Maybe because I don’t drink, so I have no reasonable excuse to be in a bar?”

“Just take me and Bob again,” Wade suggested. “We don’t even have to get drunk. Just take us and do your thing. We’ll stay out of your hair.”

“We’ll do what?” Bob has come back from the hallway, and he shoved his phone in his pocket as he caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“We’re gonna be wingmen for Mark,” Wade said, which was quickly followed by a ‘ _ No! _ ’ from Mark. 

Bob raised an eyebrow. Mark buried his head behind his Astrology textbook.

“Apparently, Jack the bartender gave Mark a bottle of wine last time we were there,” Wade shook the bottle a bit to show.

“No,” Mark said. “He just gave it to me because I was a first-time customer.”

Bob and Wade glanced at each other. 

“I don’t remember being given a free bottle of wine because I was a first-time customer,” Bob said. 

“Me neither,” Wade agreed. 

“Well,” Mark hid himself further behind his book. “Maybe you just weren’t cute enough.”

“...He was flirting,” Bob nodded. “And you were into it.”

Mark lifted the textbook and capped it on his head, making his face appear under a tent. His cheeks were a blooming red. 

“We’re going back,” Bob declared. 

“On a Saturday,” Mark demanded. “Because karaoke.” 

Wade and Bob rolled their eyes.

\---

The bar was exactly like he remembered it, neon sign and all. The only difference was the lit up stage, and an enthusiastic woman singing to ‘Bad Blood’ as the words flowed across the TV screens. A small audience watched her with their food or drink. Even the bartenders stopped to watch. 

Mark spotted Jack with a surprisingly fond smile as he watched the woman. His stomach knotted for a moment. Was she his girlfriend? Wife? Fiance, possibly? 

As if sensing him, Jack turned in his direction. His face fell, turning a ghostly white, and Mark feared he might drop the cup he held.

Then he coughed, and slid the cup under the counter. He seemed to try to preoccupy himself by forcibly scrubbing the counter, his eyes glued to the smooth wood. 

Wade grabbed his elbow and tugged him toward a table closest to the stage, that wasn’t already claimed by a group. The woman on stage sung a loud and and long finale, and pumped her fist in the air on the last note. The audience applauded, and the woman high fived a big bearded man when she climbed off stage. 

Bob patted Mark’s shoulder. 

“Go, go,” Bob urged. 

“What - sing?” Mark asked. 

“ _ Yes _ , what else?” Bob said. “You’re a great singer, you’re sure to woo your bartender over there.” He nodded to the bar, and Mark shoved him. 

“I’m picking out a song for you,” Wade said, and stood up. 

“No -  _ Wade! _ ” Mark attempted to grab the other’s arm, but Wade shook him off. 

He continued past the tables and to a stereo next to the stage. A touch screen lit up beside it, and Wade scrolled through the albums of music the bar held. Mark watched him with growing dismay, and a growing hope that he wouldn’t find a good enough song.

Then Wade’s face lit up, and he tapped something on the screen. He smiled at Mark and gestured for him to get on stage. Mark mouth a ‘No’.

Then the music began and Mark recognized it instantly. He heaved a heavy sigh and went up onto the stage.

The last time Mark performed on stage was in a musical his senior year of high school. He was a major character in the play ‘ _ Hairspray _ ’, a friend of the lead role. His character did mostly back-up vocals.

This particular performance wasn’t anything important at all, not a musical or a play. He was singing karaoke in front of a bunch of drunk strangers. And, well, the hot guy behind the bar, who was watching with avid interest. If anything, it was him that was causing beads of sweat to break out on Mark’s hands and forehead.

Whispering a ‘ _ fuck it _ ’ to himself, Mark grabbed the mic and began to sing the first verse of ‘Can you feel the Love Tonight’ from the  _ ‘The Lion King _ ’. 

After the first verse, he eased into it. His hands relaxed from their white-knuckle grip around the mic. He swayed back and forth to the music and tried to make it funny by making stupid poses and exaggerated kisses to the audience. Laughs were especially drawn out when he sang badly on purpose. He finished with a high note that impressed even him, and the audience laughed and applauded. 

Mark went back to his seat and Wade and Bob high fived him. 

“Great job, man!” Bob said. 

“Told you so,” Wade teased. Mark flicked him. 

“Bet you impressed your--” Bob began, looking at the bar, then stopped and frowned. 

Mark turned to follow his gaze. Behind the bar, only Felix appeared to be serving drinks. Sometime during the performance, Jack had left the room. 

\---

Mark volunteered to order their drinks. The woman from before reappeared back on stage to sing another Disney song, apparently inspired by Mark’s performance. The three of them sat and watched, but Mark kept one eye on the bar. 

Jack did not come back.

So Mark decided to snoop and used the excuse to buy drinks to figure out where he went. Felix at the bar didn’t look too overwhelmed, but he looked busy, considering he was the only one on duty. A guy with black hair and gauges in his ears appeared once in a while to assist, but he frequently went back to the kitchen behind the bar.

Felix greeted him when Mark sat at the bar.

“Hey Mark,” Felix said. “Haven’t seen you back in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been...busy,” Mark lied. “Uh, where did Jack go?”

“He stepped outside a few minutes ago,” Felix shrugged. “Needed to take...a breather.” He rolled his eyes, not in an amused way, but more annoyed. “You’re welcome to go find him, maybe tell him to get his ass back in here. I can’t exactly leave the bar unattended, and Nate can’t handle this on his own.” He pointed a thumb to the kitchen. 

“Oh, yeah, I can do that,” Mark nodded. 

“Great,” Felix said, and pointed to a hallway. “Last door down that hall. He should be just outside.” 

Mark stood from the stool and headed down the hallway. He passed an open archway to the kitchen, and saw the cook - Nate - manning a stove. Nate nodded once to him in greeting before going back to his work. 

Mark spotted the last door, a tall heavy one. He pushed it open and the cool outside air flowed in.

Jack was leaned against the wall, holding a cigarette to his lips. 

Spotting Mark in the doorway, Jack dropped it out of surprise. Smoke trailed from his nose as he stared like a deer in headlights.

Mark raised an eyebrow. He didn’t particularly care for smokers, but he also didn’t take Jack to be one.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Mark said. 

Jack glanced downwards at the red glow of the cig on the ground. He stomped over it with his shoe. “Uh, sometimes.” It was hard to tell if he was lying. 

“Well,” Mark rocked on his feet. “Felix wants you, and I quote, ‘to get your ass back in there’.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Sorry you had to be the one to fetch me.” He leaned back against the wall and looked up. 

After a moment, he tilted his head to look at Mark. 

“Are you...Going to go back inside or just stand there?” Jack asked.

Mark bit his lip. He stepped fully outside and let the door close behind him. “I can keep you company, if you don’t mind.” 

He waited for a response, but Jack didn’t give any, so Mark just leaned against the wall. It’s gotten a lot more darker outside since Mark got here. The sun is just below the horizon, making the sky fade from darkness, to purple, to orange. A few stars have revealed themselves, twinkling like little lights. Without thinking about it, Mark pulled out his phone and selected the camera. 

“What are you doing?” Jack asked as Mark aimed the camera towards the sky.

“Oh,” Mark lowered his phone, nervous suddenly. “Just taking a picture. It’s a pretty sunset. Sorry.” He began to pocket his phone. 

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Jack said. “I was just curious. Can I see?”

Mark paused, the nervous thrum still in his chest as he pulled out the photos on his phone. He showed Jack the picture he took. 

“It is very pretty,” Jack said softly. “You study Earth Science, right? Isn’t Astrology kind of a part of that?”

“It is,” Mark said. “We’re on that subject now, in fact. It’s my favorite part.” He looked up at the sky. “It’s not only pretty, it’s fascinating, too. There’s still so much we don’t know, so much of space we haven’t discovered yet, but there’s also so much we  _ do  _ know!” He shrugged, a nervous thrum rising over his space-glee. “Sorry. It’s just an interesting subject to me.” He looked over to Jack to see him smiling. 

“You like space?” Jack asked. 

Mark shrugged, a nervous habit. “I-I guess.”

“It is really interesting,” Jack agreed. “What else do you like?”

“Hm, well, I could tell you everything I like over a coffee?” Mark smiled cheekily, even though his nerves were through the roof. The last part of his line ended with an apprehensive question. 

Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised, but not upset. “Oh, yeah, sure. Do you still have my number?”

Mark bit his lip. The slip of paper the other gave him a month ago had been forgotten in his jeans pocket and lost somewhere in the washing machine. He shook his head apologetically. 

“I kinda lost it,” He explained. “Can you put it my phone so I don’t lose it again?” 

Jack nodded, and they exchanged phone numbers.

“Now I should definitely get back to my post,” Jack said, heading to the door. “I’ll text you?”

“Yes,” Mark nodded, and they went back inside. A giddy feeling rose up in him as he went back into the bar.


	4. The One with the Coffee Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this isn't as boring as the other chapters aha;;;

Jack glared into his bathroom mirror, deciding whether to go in what he was wearing now or change his clothes entirely.

The dark green tank-top and jeans he wore didn’t look too bad. He kept the gold chain around his neck( _ Mark did say he liked it _ ), but he wondered if his gauges were too much. Should he take a sweatshirt? 

Shaking his head, he decided he was worrying too much. It was just coffee. A coffee  _ date _ , as Mark mentioned in their series of texts since last Saturday, though Jack didn’t know how serious he meant it. 

What was he thinking? Going out with  _ him _ . He should be over it, it was so long ago, but Jack can’t help the guilt rising in his throat, the worry that he’s making a terrible mistake. 

His fingers tapped on the edge of the sink. He brought a hand up to rub at his nose. A drink might calm his nerves. 

No, no. He could do this without alcohol in his system. It was just coffee. With  _ him _ .

When he was changing this morning, the tank top he pulled from his closet shelf revealed the locked wooden box he kept hidden. He knew the key was hidden in a knotted up sock in his bottom drawer, next to his drum sticks. For a second, he hesitated, his mind wandering to the box’s contents. 

Then he shoved the box under a sweatshirt and closed the closet door. It’s not something he needed to think about now. 

Instead, he focused his attention on his answering machine beeping insistently for the past week. The callers were an organization he’d rather not interfere with. An old man by the name of Bryan Lynch ran it. He also ran a winery across town.

Bryan has been persisting to partner with Jack, claiming it’s for the best for such a ‘young lad’ owning a large company  _ and  _ a bar. Bryan even offered to help him run the business, isn’t that nice?

Jack scoffed aloud thinking it. The old man has no idea.

Anyway. He couldn’t think about Bryan at a time like this. He has a date to get to.

Glancing at the answering machine only once, Jack left his messy apartment with his phone in hand, his text convo with Mark open.

\--

Mark was waiting for him. He sat at a booth next to the window of the small coffee shop, his head tilted down to look at his phone. 

The bell chimed above the door as Jack walked in, and Mark’s head looked up to spot him. Mark broke out in a smile, and he gave Jack a wave.

“You didn’t wait long, did you?” Jack asked as he sat across from Mark.

“Not at all,” Mark said. “I was thinking about ordering something. Want to come with?” He stood up from the table.

“Of course,” Jack said, and they headed up to the front counter.

“So, what else do you do, outside of the bar?” Mark asked as they waited in line. 

“Uh, not much,” Jack shrugged. “The bar takes up most of my time.” 

“What about your company?” Mark asked. 

“I can’t run a bar and manage a company at the same time,” Jack said. “So I have a...family friend in charge of it over there. His name’s Ken.” 

“Doesn’t it get overwhelming?” Mark said. “Even if some of the load is taken off by Ken.”

“Yeah, it does,” Jack said. “But I can manage. I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“How long have you had the bar?” Mark asked.

Jack had to think. When did he…?

“About...three years, I think?” Jack said, uncertainly. 

“That doesn’t seem like a long time,” Mark commented, raising an eyebrow. 

Jack took a second to think. He brought his hand up to rub at his nose. “My father owned it for a long time. He taught me all about owning and keeping a bar. I’ve helped him behind-the-scenes and such.” It was funny how lying became easy.

“Cool,” Mark said. “So he gave it to you?”

“Eh, it was more like...passed down to me,” Jack said. “He passed away a few years ago and left the bar to me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Mark said, and he shifted on his feet. “I understand how awful that is. My dad passed away a while ago, too.” He offered a supporting smile, an understanding smile, and Jack had to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

Jack didn’t have a chance to respond, as it was now their turn at the counter of the shop. They gave their orders to the girl at the register. Upon being served their drinks, they made their way back to the table Mark had picked out. 

“So, what do you do?” Jack asked, if only to move on from the subject. “Outside of school and going to bars?” He smirked at the last question.

Mark chuckled. “I work part time at the library. The manager is really nice, she lets me use the computers there to type up essays after they close.” He took a sip from his drink. “Now, I don’t think you answered me before - what do you do outside of work?”

Jack shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. I sometimes go out with Felix and Nate. But I guess I just stay at the bar.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What, do you live there?”

Jack chuckled. “Actually, I do. In an apartment above it.” 

“Wow, you’re really a workaholic,” Mark joked. “I get it. I hope it’s not too overwhelming, being thrust into that position.” 

“I think I’ve got a good handle on it,” Jack said, keeping careful to not add a bite to it. Too many people have told him that, and it’s too tempting to just tell them exactly why he’s qualified enough to fill his position.

“It seems like you do,” Mark nodded. His eyes flickered to behind Jack and his eyebrows came together. 

A hand tapped on Jack’s shoulder. Jack turned to see, and kept himself from groaning aloud. 

Salt-and-pepper hair, crow’s feet eyes, beer belly, in-the-flesh Bryan Lynch stood behind him. He grinned heartily at Jack. 

“My boy, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Bryan greeted. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”

“Mr. Lynch?”

Bryan, and Jack too, turned to look at Mark, who stared in near disbelief at the newcomer. 

Bryan’s face broke out into a surprised grin. “Mr. Fischbach! It’s lovely to see you again!” He walked past the table to hold out a hand for Mark. 

“You know him?” Jack asked. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Mark said, returning Bryan’s handshake. 

“Oh yes, I haven’t seen him since he was in high school,” Bryan explained, and Mark nodded, apprehensively. Jack raised an eyebrow at him, to which he helplessly shrugged. 

“He was the father of...a high school friend of mine,” Mark said, his eyes darting downwards. 

“Oh, don’t be so modest, boy,” Bryan pat him on the back. “I know you and my Cole were more than friends.” He grinned in such a fatherly way, and Mark fit the profile of an embarrassed kid. 

Jack swallowed hard. It hadn’t occurred to him that before Mark had walked into the bar, he had lived a life. It hadn’t occurred to Jack that Mark might have had previous relationships.

“What are you two doing out here?” Bryan asked, and peered at the two cups sitting at the table. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting something here?” He stepped away with his hands up. “I’m dearly sorry, but Mark, can I borrow your friend here for a minute? I have to talk business with him. Then you two can get back to your date here.” 

“Uh, sure,” Mark said, but didn’t quite catch Jack mouthing a ‘no’ at him. 

“Okay! Jack, please, this way,” Bryan said, and gestured to a secluded corner of the shop. 

Jack sighed but followed, knowing he would be unable to think of a good enough excuse to skip out.

Bryan turned to him, with a cautious expression. “I know you’ve declined previously, but Mr. McLoughlin, you’re so young and running such a large business - a  _ company  _ at that - I just think you might want someone more experienced to help you. I can do that, I can teach all you need to know about this business.”

“Sorry, Mr. Lynch,” Jack said, like he has before, like he has the last hundred times somebody offered to ‘help him’. “But I’m handling it on my own. I have people helping me already. I’m perfectly capable of running this thing.”

Bryan looked disappointed. “I just worry about you boy, there are people out there who will try to hurt you and your business. I’ve looked into your family’s history, your business is nearly a hundred years old! And, pardon me for snooping, but I don’t think you have family this side of the world to take over if something happened to you. What if something does?”

Jack’s timer had ticked closer to its end at every word Bryan was speaking. He was so frustrated at hearing him, at Bryan pestering him for so long, that he finally gave in. 

“Okay, how about this,” Jack said, if only to appease the other. “If something  _ does  _ happen to me, you can take over my business. Yeah?”

Bryan relaxed, appearing satisfied. “That’s not what I was asking for, but it will do, Mr. McLoughlin. Can I get that in writing?” 

“If it’ll make you happy,” Jack said. “You know my number. Now, I want to get back to my date.” He left the older man with such relief he couldn’t give a damn about the repercussions of his deal.

Mark was scrolling through his phone when Jack sat back down. He looked up and smiled. 

“Everything okay?” Mark asked.

“Peachy,” Jack replied. He hesitated a second before asking the question on the tip of his tongue. “You dated his son?”

Mark swallowed. “Uh, yeah, in high school. We ended on pretty good terms senior year, though. I haven’t seen him since.” He coughed. “Uh, how do you know Mr. Lynch?”

“He’s gotten in touch with me before,” Jack said. “Been suggesting we partner up so he can help me run the bar.” He rolled his eyes, but Mark just looked thoughtful.

“Maybe you should let him,” Mark said. 

Jack looked at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding?”

“I mean,” Mark glanced at the ground. “You  _ are  _ running a bar and a company all by yourself. You’re really young. From what I remember, Mr. Lynch has always been a pretty friendly guy. He’s owned companies for most of his life. Maybe having someone as experienced as him to help you might not be such a bad idea.” 

Jack clenched and unclenched his hands from under the table. He couldn’t reiterate why he’s experienced enough without giving away anything. But he also couldn’t really snap at Mark. He didn’t want to ruin their relationship that had barely even began.

“I already made a deal with him so he can stop pestering me about it,” Jack said. “If I happen to die before him, he’s welcome to take over my business.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “And how likely is that?” 

Jack took a sip from his coffee, hiding his grin. “Not likely at all.” 

-

They moved on from the topic soon after. Jack found out Mark is a video game nerd, and stored that away for later use. He wondered if the playstation at home still worked.

Jack would say he had a good time. It was nice listening to Mark talk. He had a relaxing, smooth voice. He almost didn’t want to leave. But the sky was darkening, and Jack had to get up early to set up the bar tomorrow. 

“I should get home, too,” Mark said. “I have an early class tomorrow morning.” He stuck his tongue out to show how much he disliked it. They got up from the table, tossing their empty coffee cups into the trash. 

“I can walk you home, if you want,” Jack suggested. 

“That’d be nice,” Mark said as they walked out the coffee shop doors. 

“Alright, lead the way,” Jack said, and stuck his elbow out without thinking about it.

Mark just chuckled and took the offered arm. “It’s not that far away. It’s the apartment building at the intersection.” 

They walked arm-in-arm down the street, and Jack had to squash down the feeling of nostalgia. 

In the back of his mind, memories began to stir.


End file.
